


The Odds of Succeeding (Are Incredibly Small)

by FlyingFairies



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Eleven | Jane Hopper & Maxine "Max" Mayfield Friendship, Good Parent Joyce Byers, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Minor Maxine "Max" Mayfield/Lucas Sinclair, Past Child Abuse, Post-Season/Series 02, Post-Stranger Things 2
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-18 19:56:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29614629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlyingFairies/pseuds/FlyingFairies
Summary: Not even 3 months after she first moved to Hawkins, Max arrives at her house to find it a crime scene. Thrown straight into her home life, Steve Harrington tries to pick up the pieces while everything seems against them.
Kudos: 7





	1. Miss Mayfield

Steve Harrington regretted everything when he saw Max’s face.

“You said you would come at nine.” She told him, sitting down in the passenger seat with a scowl on her face. “It’s seven thirty.” 

“Hop said your curfew is eight o’clock sharp.”

“Hop made up that curfew.”

“Then we best stick to it.” Steve said, smiling at her frown and starting the car. He wasn’t sure how he ended up ferrying around Max Mayfield, the youngest and by far the most insolent of the Hawkin’s Middle School AV Club, but he seemed to have become somewhat of a parent to her over the past two months, since the business with the Mind Flayer and the gate. 

They drove off through the woods away from the Byers’ house. Max barely looked at Steve until they reached the centre of Hawkins, when Steve decided to start his lecture. 

“You wouldn’t have such an early curfew if you didn’t skip school.” 

“I wouldn’t have such an early curfew if Hop wasn’t such a busybody. Did you know he phoned the house last night to check I was home?” Max exclaimed. 

“And were you?” Asked Steve, raising an eyebrow, well aware that Max regularly spent half the night skating in downtown Hawkins.

“Yes.” 

“Good girl.” He nodded as he turned down Old Cherry Road. Car lights shone from scarily close to Max’s house, and he noted the change from moody to anxious on the girl’s face. 

“Steve…” Max muttered, glancing up at him with wide blue eyes. They drove closer to Max’s house, where an ambulance and two police cars were parked outside, headlights glaring into the January rain. 

“Stay here.” Steve commanded, getting out the car. Max followed him, rushing to her door. “Max!” He called, although she barely looked back. It only took a few moments for her to be carried out by Chief Hopper, kicking and shouting at him. 

Hopper had blood on his face and his shirt, while Max had tears streaming from her eyes. 

“Take the kid to the Byers’.”

“Hop, what happ-” 

“Take the kid to the Byers’!” Shouted Hopped into his face. Steve stood frozen and Max leaned into him, sobbing. “Shift it Harrington!” 

Steve scooped Max into his arms, letting her press her face into his shoulder, and carried her back to the car. She was lighter than a kid her age should be, something Steve didn’t think he had ever noticed before. 

Once they were both in the car and had begun the drive back to the Byer’s, Steve summoned the courage to talk to her, 

“You okay?” Obviously not, he thought, kicking himself for the stupid question. Looking at her, he saw the blood on her hands and wrists, like someone with bloody hands had grabbed them. The Byers’ couldn’t be the best destination for Max right now. Mike, Dustin, Lucas, El and Will would all be there, and while they were all good kids, Max took a great amount of pride in her reputation as the tough one. At least Joyce was there, he supposed, Joyce who looked out for Max like she was one of her own. 

Max tensed as they pulled up outside the house and Steve glanced at her. God, she must be terrified. Steve didn’t have any idea what she saw in 5280 Old Cherry Road, but he couldn’t imagine it was anything less than awful.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Max felt the need to hold Steve’s hand as they walked towards the Byers’ door. She didn’t, but she wished that she could. What had happened minutes before replayed over and over again in her head. The body on the floor, Billy and Neil sat on the sofa, glaring at her, and her mother’s bloody hands gripping her own. Hopper grabbing her around the waist, pulling her out the front door. The blood, everywhere. The stench of it all, the paramedics rushing around with their equipment, her mother’s cries as Hopper carried her away. 

Joyce answered the door when Steve knocked, and looked at Max with the kindest look she thought she had ever received. Her eyes then darted to Steve for some type of explanation. 

“Hopper told us to come here.” Was all he said, wiping the mix of rainwater and sweat off his forehead as Max tried to hide behind him, noticing the entire party staring at her with uncomfortable amounts of pity in their eyes. Joyce followed her eye line, 

“Kids, can you go into Will’s room?” They all nodded and rushed off, looks fixated on Max until they turned into the kitchen and out of sight. 

Joyce wrapped her arm around Max and helped her to the sofa as if she was injured. Despite her attempts not to, Max felt herself begin to cry all over again, and hugged Joyce tightly as Steve sat awkwardly beside them. 

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Joyce asked once Max had stopped crying and was slowly sipping at a glass of water. She nodded and gulped down the lump in her throat. 

“There was a man on the floor, covered in blood. I think he was alive, I don’t know. Then Neil and Billy were on the sofa, Neil had beaten Billy I think, since his face was bleeding. Mom was crying, and her hands were covered in blood. She tried to hug me, and I tried to run to my room, but Hopper picked me up and made me leave.” She narrated simply, Joyce’s hands resting on her own. 

“Do you need to stay here tonight?” She asked, although she addressed the question to Steve, who to be fair was the far more composed of the two. 

“If that’s alright. I imagine Hop will be over soon.” Joyce nodded and smiled, 

“Of course that’s fine.” She told him, seeming almost offended that he thought it might not be okay. “Now, Maxy, how about you get a shower and I’ll make you something to eat?” She suggested, “I’m sure Will has some clothes he could lend you.” She came out with a flurry of options for food as she led Max to the bathroom and showed her how to work the shower. It was nice, just being able to pay attention to Joyce’s calm voice rather than listen to the thoughts in her head that screamed for her to run away from any kind of affection. 

Instead of fleeing, like she has the painfully strong instincts to do, she decided on Eggos, which has become one of her favourites after eating them everytime El was around. Joyce disappeared for a moment and came back with a towel and a pile of Will’s clothes - mainly graphic tees and sweatpants. Max stood uncomfortably in the middle of the bathroom waiting for her to return, looking at herself in the mirror. She’d never been pretty in California, too pale, too freckly with bright red hair and a temper, but she looked awful now. Dark rings around her eyes, tear stains across her cheeks and, when she lifted her shirt, there were the marks from Neil’s belt still raw and bruised like they were last night. 

“Max!” Joyce exclaimed as she entered, dropping the towel and clothes onto the floor. Max rushed to cover them, but it was too late. “Who did this to you?” Joyce carefully ran her fingers over the marks, making Max wince, struggling to find an answer. Not that she didn’t have one, of course, but she didn’t want anymore of Joyce’s pity. Still, no one can lie to Joyce Byers. 

“Neil.” She answered, her voice void of all emotion. Joyce’s face crumpled. 

“Dear God, my poor darling, and you never said anything to anyone?” Max shook her head, blinking unexpected tears from her eyes, 

“No one in Hawkins.” 

“No one in Hawkins?” Joyce repeated, turning to properly face her, “Max did you tell people in California?” 

“Yes.” Max replied in a small voice, “That’s why we moved, too many people knew, too many people watching us. That’s what Neil said anyway.” She felt herself start to cry, and wanted more than anything to lean into Joyce, but Joyce held Max by her shoulders, with a deadly serious look in her eye. 

“Max, I need you to be very strong, very brave, and I need you to tell me everything I ask, alright?” Joyce said firmly, and Max nodded. “Who did you tell in California?”

“My English teacher, Mrs Radley.” 

“And did she tell the authorities?” 

“Yes ma’am.” 

“Call me Joyce, sweety.” Joyce gently corrected, like she’d done a hundred times before. “Did the police find out?” 

“Yes ma- Joyce.” Max said, trying to avoid eye contact. Joyce’s face turned angry, 

“Hopper.” She muttered, “That bastard must have known. It’ll be on record, I’m sure.” 

Joyce smoothed out her brow, then gave Max a tight hug, both of them pretending that they hadn’t seen that rage flash across Joyce’s face. 

“If you get your shower, I’ll find you some cream to put on those marks then we’ll have something to eat, okay?”

“Okay.” Max replied, still holding Joyce’s hands.

“The kids are being picked up about nine, nine thirty, but I’ll keep them out of your way.”

“No, it’s alright.” Max said. Hearing them talk about games and films and absolutely nothing of importance will probably be good for her, keep her mind off it all. Max had noticed how Joyce called them the kids, as if Max was far too grown up to be classed as a kid anymore. Maybe she was, she knew things about life and death and the harshness of it all that they didn’t, things that only grown ups are supposed to know about. Joyce looked as if she was close to crying herself.

“Okay, but if they get too annoying or loud or anything, you tell me right away, understand?”

“Yes ma’am - sorry, Joyce.” She glanced up at Joyce again, who quickly pulled her into another hug. 

“Poor baby.” She said softly, stroking Max’s hair, “Poor baby.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~

Joyce felt herself seething with anger as she cooked the Eggos. Hopper had to know, it had to be on file that Neil hit Max before. There must have been warning signs before that night's incident, the Hargrove-Mayfield household should have been on Hopper’s radar. He should have known. It infuriated Joyce more than she liked. A kid being beaten in Hawkins probably wasn’t an unusual story, but Hopper should have known, he should have done something. After all, it was Max. The kid he gives curfews and rides around town and lunch money to. The kid who he called ‘Red’ on a good day and ‘Maxine Elizabeth Mayfield’ on a bad one. The kid who fought a fucking demogorgan with them. He should have paid more attention, he should have done something. 

Max came into the kitchen with her wet hair tied into two braids that fell over her shoulders. Joyce gestured for her to sit at the table, and she did so, smiling weakly. 

“The cream will help, I promise.” Joyce said, placing a plate in front of Max. 

“Thank you.” Max replied quietly, “You won’t _tell_ anyone, will you?” She looked at Joyce anxiously, who started loading Max’s plate with Eggos.

“I have to tell Hop. But no, I won’t tell anyone else.” She assured Max, passing her the syrup. Max smiled and nodded, Joyce taking that as her cue to start bringing Eggos to the rest of the house. 

She gave Steve, who was sitting on the sofa with his leg bouncing nervously, a few, plus a beer in the hope that it would calm him down a bit. He thanked her, running a trembling hand through his hair, 

“Is Max alright?” He asked, his voice low so they couldn’t be overheard.

“Shaken, definitely. But she’s a fighter.” Steve looked at her questioningly, “You can’t think this is an isolated incident Mr Harrington.” 

“No, but…” Steve began, trailing off. He drew in a breath, “She’s just a kid, I know Billy’s an asshole but…” 

“She’ll tell you in her own time.” Joyce said firmly, cutting off anything else he might say. “She’s a good kid, just take it gently with her, alright?” Steve nodded, and Joyce decided to leave the poor boy in peace, figuring that his head was probably full of enough thoughts and questions for one night. 

Coming from Will’s room was a hushed conversation that Joyce couldn’t make out from the hallway. She knocked on his door, which was opened by a rather unsettled looking Lucas. 

“Max-” He began, before looking up at Joyce’s face. “Oh, sorry Ms Byers.” As the group realised it was Joyce, Mike and El both shuffled away from each other in their position underneath Will’s window; Dustin hid the two copies of homework he was writing on and Will jumped up from beside him, pretending that he wasn’t cheating off Dustin's work.

“I’ve brought you some Eggos.” Joyce said, passing the full plate to a smiling El, who then glanced up at Joyce with a look of worry.

“Max?” She asked. “Max hurt?” 

“Something like that dear, I’m sure she’ll tell you soon.”

“Was it another demogorgon?” Said Dustin, grabbing the old softball bat beside him. Joyce shook her head. 

“Billy?” Lucas asked, his voice much softer and more concerned than Dustin’s, Joyce looked into the boy’s eyes. She had no idea how much Max had told him, how much she’d told the rest of the party, and she wasn’t about to reveal her secrets. Lucas seemed to silently understand this, “Is she okay? Can I see her?” With that, the whole party talked over each other about seeing Max. 

“Just to see if she’s alright!” Pleaded Lucas, when Joyce shook her head.

“Come on Mom, please.” Followed up Will.

“Not even just one of us?” Asked Lucas, with Dustin adding, 

“Or maybe two?” 

“No.” Joyce said firmly.

“Please Ms Byers!” Lucas begged, “We won’t be loud or anything.” 

“We won’t be annoying or anything.” Said Mike, “Just to make sure she’s okay.” 

“Wow, Mikey, you really care about me.” Came a dry voice from behind Joyce. She turned around to see Max standing there, eyebrow raised and smirk across her face. Mike turned red, clearly embarrassed at being caught out, and Lucas rushed forward to Max, 

“Are you alright?” He asked, holding on to both her hands. 

“I’m fine, stalker.” She replied, wriggling her hands out of his grip as he stared at her unconvinced, “Honest, don’t worry.”

Joyce thought that Lucas looked like he was worrying a whole lot, and it wasn’t exactly unwarranted, but he forced a smile onto his face and Joyce invited them all back into the living room, if it was okay with Max, which it was. 

They were good kids, the whole lot of them, even if they’ve all been to hell and back. They sat around the table, a game of Dungeons and Dragons laid out, with El and Max constantly knocking over the pieces as they reached for more Eggos or any of the other snacks Joyce had found, despite the fact that they’d eaten dinner less than two hours before. The pair of them could eat more than all the boys combined, which Joyce had a horrible feeling came from something in both of their pasts, but never mentioned it and always fueled their appetites. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

Max didn’t even know what she was going to do that night, but as she saw headlights shine through the thin curtains, she had a realisation that she wanted to be anywhere else. 

Sat with the party, the boys arguing over a fake monster, El giggling shyly and Lucas holding her hand under the table, she could pretend that it was just another night, that everything was normal. Still, when she heard Jonathon’s keys jangle in the door, she was dragged straight back to reality. 

It didn’t even change anything immediately. Steve’s presence was becoming less and less questioned each day, and Max guessed Jonathon assumed he was here to pick her or Dustin up. Nancy, who followed Jonathon into the house, gave Max a second look, glancing at her clothes and wet hair, but didn’t say anything as she smiled at the party. 

After a few minutes of conversation with Joyce, however, Nancy began to round up party members. She was only supposed to take Mike and Lucas, but when Joyce asked if she would take Dustin too, Nancy quickly agreed, failing to mask a curious look at Steve.

Max noticed Joyce whisper something into Nancy’s ear, and she hoped it was just a half-baked excuse as to why Steve and Max weren’t leaving, but she had a feeling it wasn’t, since Nancy nodded and then gave Max the most painfully sympathetic look she’d ever received. 

With the house significantly quieter, Jonathan retreated to his room and Will switched on the TV. Max climbed onto the sofa from the floor, sitting next to Steve and leaning into him as he wrapped an arm around her. She barely said anything, even as Will struggled to do his homework, which Max had breezed through. Any other day, she would have helped, but she felt way too tired and told a quick lie that she’d forgotten it - hardly unbelievable. It earned her a disapproving glance from Steve, who, even as Max’s world seemed to be falling apart, managed to be parental, however it also gave Max the ability to tune out and fall into that strange state of consciousness where you’re not sure if you're awake or not. 

Eventually, a pair of headlights pulled up outside that El immediately identified as Hopper’s, and Max found herself sitting very straight on the edge of the sofa, shaking with anticipation. She gripped Steve’s hand as Joyce opened the door, then pulled it away as she realised. 

“Hey, kid, it’s okay.” He said softly, standing up and helping her to her feet. Hopper looked at both of them as soon as he walked in, barely taking his eyes off them to hug El. It didn’t take long before her and Will were both sent to his room and Hopper placed a dining room chair opposite the couch, with Joyce perched on the armchair and Steve and Max sat back on the sofa.

“Well, Miss Mayfield, tonight has been quite the night for the Hawkins Police Department.” He said, forcing some humour in a tone that made Max unable to resist a small smile. “I want you to listen to me and understand exactly what has happened. Is that alright?”

“Yes sir.” Max replied, catching a glimpse of Joyce’s scowl out the corner of her eye. Once Hopper was done talking, she imagined the woman was prepared to rain hellfire on him. But for now, she stayed quietly seething. 

“Your stepfather was a security guard at the bank, am I correct?”

“Yes sir.”

“One night, a few days ago now, there was a break in at the bank. A certain vault, belonging to a rather powerful man, was robbed. That man, it seems, blamed your stepfather for the break in and had some questions regarding how it happened. The man then hired a private detective to find out more, and the P.I. visited your house to investigate the case. It appears as if your stepfather lashed out at him, hitting him over the head with a lamp and making him unconscious.” Hopper paused, glancing away from Max for a moment. 

“Is he dead?” Max asked bluntly, her voice little more than a whisper. 

“Yes, Miss Mayfield.” Hopper answered, equally as blunt and seemingly relieved he didn’t have to say it first. Max imagined small town police officers didn’t deal with this every day. The whole conversation was being kept as formal as possible, which Max supposed made it easier, she still wasn’t used to the whole Hawkins, hugging, emotional situation. 

“What about Billy?” She questioned, silently praying that he wasn’t involved and dreading the worst. 

“Mr Hargrove tried to phone the police, it appears, and your stepfather attacked him. Thankfully, the line connected and officers were dispatched to the house.” Hopper explained, looking at Max with pity that she really didn’t want. The silence, however, gave Joyce Byers an opportunity. 

“Of course this violence shouldn’t surprise you.” She said snarkily.

“It shouldn’t?” Hopper replied, confused. Then his face darkened and his eyes swiveled to Max. “It shouldn’t.” They locked eyes for a moment, Max wishing more than anything that it would all stop soon. The sympathy made her feel more uncomfortable than anything, especially from Hopper - the man who shoved her sorry ass in the back of a police van and drove her to school when she skipped. He was supposed to be tough, harsh and emotionless. A kind of comforting severity that she found herself in need of, because she knew it was the only thing really forcing her to tow the line. 

Joyce spoke with a clear confidence.

“Max will stay here with me tonight.” Hopper turned his attention to her, 

“Miss Mayfield is currently a ward of the state.” He said in a sharp tone. Max had been a ward of the state before, and it wasn’t a very pleasant experience. “Social services-”

“Social services will understand that Max is far better off in the care of people she knows.” Interrupted Joyce, throwing a comforting look at Max and a glare at Hopper. “Now, Chief Hopper, I believe you have a case to finish up with. El can stay here for the night, and you can sort out all of this business, including telling social services that Max is looked after.” 

“Joyce, that’s not how it works.”

“She’s far safer here than she was in that house and you know it.” Joyce said, standing and sitting next to Max, wrapping an arm around her. Max leant into her, feeling like she was about to cry. She’d never had someone care about her in the same way Joyce did, even her own mom didn’t argue with police officers over her. Neil did, she supposed, but that was more about protecting his own reputation than her and even then, he said it was one less issue if she wasn’t at home. 

That’s all she was with him. In California, then in Hawkins, just a problem that needed to be solved. Every letter home about fighting or disrespect or cutting class was another item on the list of why Max annoyed him and another strike of his belt on her back. 

He always expected her to behave. To be the quiet, meek little girl who always followed his orders. Even though she didn’t want to, she sometimes found herself being exactly that. One Sunday, back in California, she was sat silently in a church pew in a blue, floral patterned dress with a lace collar that made her look more like a character out of some dull book than herself while the pastor droned on and on. Afterwards, there was the regular talk between the congregation, mostly made up of gossip and judgemental remarks, the kind of things that the pastor had preached against. It was a few weeks after Neil and her mom had married, and Neil was showing her off to every person who would listen. For nearly an hour, she smiled and said the exact phrases she knew Neil liked to hear, which were exclusively “yes sir”, “no sir”, “yes ma’am” and “no ma’am”. 

It was only once they’d arrived home that Max tired of the act. And it only took one offhand comment for Neil to lose it. She was stuck in her room with a bruised back and an empty stomach for the rest of the day. The smell of food from downstairs crept into her room, making her even more hungry as she systematically cleaned her skateboard, like she did everytime things like that happened. 

She was barely even angry, although not sad either. Just numb, the kind of feeling when you don’t feel anymore. She stayed on her floor with her skateboard until Billy knocked quietly on the door, long after the sun had set. 

“It’s me.” He whispered through it, as the key turned in the handle and pushed his way in. Silently, he placed a plate with sandwiches and chips on the bed, then a couple apples beside it. 

“Thanks.” Muttered Max, standing up to face him properly. 

“I got you this as well.” He said, placing a plastic cup on the bedside table, “You like strawberry, right?” 

“Yeah.” Max replied. They were both stiff, it wasn’t as if they spoke to each other unless they had to.

“God, you’re such a girl.” 

“What?”

“Pink, it’s a girly thing.” Explained Billy, like it was obvious. “Anyway, eat. I’ll come back for the trash before I go to sleep.” Max stared at him with her eyes wide open. 

“Why did you do this?”

“Do what?” 

“Get me food?” Said Max, unconsciously taking a step back as Billy came closer to her. 

“Because, Mayfield, you’re annoying as fuck and I wish I’d never met you. But you’re also my fucking sister, alright? We’re family and I look after my family.” He hissed, blue eyes glaring into hers, “And besides, I was in Smithy’s anyway, it made sense to get you something.” He gestured to the milkshake on the table, then left as Max quietly thanked him again. 

Sat on the sofa in Hawkins, Indiana, was when Max realised that Billy didn’t even like the food from Smithy’s, he called it a washed up hovel more often than not and was always disdainful of her trips there. So it was odd that he went there on his own accord. And he didn’t have to get Max anything, despite what he said, and there had been multiple occasions where he’d flat out refused to. She didn’t know where Billy was right now, perhaps the police station, but she wanted to see him more than anything. 

Joyce and Hopper were still arguing over laws and social services and procedure and ‘Max’s best interests’, with Steve adding his relatively unwanted opinion every so often, so she waited for a pause in the conversation to step in.

“Chief Hopper, um, sir.” She began when the opportunity arose, “Can I- Is there any way I can see Billy?” 

“Mr Hargrove is at the police station, currently being questioned.” Hopper said, not actually answering the question. 

“But you said he didn’t do anything.” Replied Max, with a frown, “You said he called the police.”

“I know that, it just needs to be proven.” Hopper replied, and Max frowned further, “He’s got a juvenile record, that means he’s practically an automatic suspect.”

“But that’s not fair!” Whined Max, her usual, stubborn self flooding back. “I want to see him and I want to see my mom!” Her voice was sharp and loud, she stood up with rage and Joyce placed a delicate hand on her arm. She could see the anger in Hopper, but one purposeful look from Joyce and it all faded. 

“Look, Miss Mayfield, I understand you’re upset but I need you to cooperate with me. I think you’re very tired and very overwhelmed. Stay here and get some sleep, then we’ll see about things in the morning, alright?” He said in a calm, level tone. Like ice to a fire. 

“Stop calling me that!” Max shouted, well aware that Jonathon, Will and El would surely be able to hear. “Stop calling me that, stop telling me how I feel and stop telling me what to do! I don’t want any of your stupid help or your stupid pity, I just want to see my mom and see my brother. Neither of them have done anything wrong so please just let me go!” 

She jerked her arm out of Joyce’s hold, grabbed her backpack and jacket that lay by the door and ran off into the night. 

  
  



	2. Somewhere to Run

Steve had always thought life in Hawkins was dull and incredibly boring; he used to long for adventure. But as he chased Maxine fucking Mayfield through the woods in the middle of the night while rain poured on his head, he rather missed the dullness of it all. 

He knew why she had run, the same reason she always did, because she was scared and angry and not in control. Like the time, just three days before, on that Tuesday, that she’d bolted from the school gates after first period. From her rather irritated, rant-like explanation, he could tell that it was because Mr Clarke called her up in front of the class to answer questions because she hadn’t been paying attention. Steve never liked to do that in school, even now, but he never ran either. He’d skipped school before, sure, however he didn’t have the same instinct to run as Max.

The instinct which had caused him to be standing in the rain, screaming out her name.

Hopper's voice bellowed beside him, Joyce’s not far off and Jonathon’s slightly further afield. If Joyce and Hopper hadn’t threatened them, Will and El would have been out there too, however they were back at the house with strict orders to remain put. 

Steve wanted more than anything to see her red hair above a bush or her skateboard sticking out from behind a tree, but there was nothing. 

He called until his voice was hoarse and his clothes were soaked through, when Hopper placed a firm hand on his shoulder and ordered him inside as if he wasn’t eighteen years old. Steve tried to argue, but one look at Hopper’s stone cold told him it wasn’t worth his time. 

Sitting back in the Byers’ house after being forced into some of Jonathon’s dry clothes by a frantic Joyce Byers, Steve decided that he didn’t like Chief Hopper. What he did for El was cool, and no one could argue that he wasn’t a good dad, but what kind of idiot pushes Max to her limits like that. Her short temper got even shorter when she was scared and anyone with eyes could tell she was fucking terrified. Hopper’s bullshit explanations about procedure and bureaucracy were never going to work with Max. 

Maybe he didn’t understand that she just didn’t care. The system had already failed her before, so she had no reason to trust it. That paired with a glaring authority problem was never going to end well for him, but despite what Max showed of herself, she had emotion under there and calling her ‘Miss Mayfield’ wasn’t going to solve anything. 

Will sat beside Steve on the sofa. Weird kid, short with a home done bowl cut and huge brown eyes. El was on the floor, begging Hopper to let her use her powers while Joyce wrote down a list of the places she could be. 

The general conclusion was at Lucas’s house, followed by Dustin’s and maybe even Mike’s at a push. Steve had suggested the junkyard, however that was quickly shot down on account of the pouring rain. He doubted whether the rain would stop Max, but didn’t argue it any further. 

Using El’s powers would have been far quicker than trailing around Hawkins, although it did strike Steve as unethical. He wasn’t sure if Max would be at anyone’s house though. Because that would mean explaining to parents, unless she was at Mike’s, and besides, if she didn’t want to be found, she would go somewhere else. 

Despite his hesitations regarding the plan, Steve volunteered to check the houses, although that idea was shut down by Joyce, who told him firmly to go home.

“Get some sleep, it’s been a long evening.” She said, placing a kind hand on his shoulder. “We’ll call you once she’s been found, I promise.”

“But please, Ms Byers, I can look. Dustin’s mom knows me, I-” He began, trying to find a reason that he should help.

“No, Harrington.” Hopper cut him off with a sharp tone. “I can’t have kids chasing around all night.”

“I’m eighteen.” Replied Steve, sticking out his chest slightly.

“I don’t care. Go home.” Hopper instructed, his voice forceful enough that Steve didn’t argue anymore. 

Saying a quick goodbye to the room, he slunk into his car and drove off back into Hawkins. It was so dark, like the sun had never even touched Hawkins before, and the rain pounded against his windscreen.

Driving up his street, lined with large family houses that felt inhospitable compared to the friendly Byers home. He knew no one was going to be there. That was good, he supposed, as he pulled into the driveway, not forced conversation or unanswerable questions. 

As he climbed out the car, he noticed a figure on his front porch. Not today, dear God not today. If that was a demogorgon or some kind of monster, he’d be furious, because right now Max was the only thing on his mind. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

Max hadn’t realised quite how long it took to run through the woods. She’d heard their shouts, but she was faster than them and they soon faded into farway calls, much easier to ignore.

She wasn’t sure where she was going. Home would still be a crime scene, Lucas’s was far too obvious and anywhere else seemed impossible. Mike wouldn’t hide her, not once Joyce and Hopper arrived. He’d hide her if she was actually running from something, that seemed to be where he excelled, but she wasn’t. She was just running. 

Also, Mike’s house had Nancy. And Nancy would have questions, plus the Byers on speed dial. No, she couldn’t go there. 

Where else? 

Reaching Downtown Hawkins on foot was painful. There were small stones in her shoes, sticking into her heel, and she’d ripped her jacket sleeve on a tree. Also it was  _ freezing _ . She’d never gotten a winter coat, Neil had called it a waste of money since she was halfway through a growth spurt and it wouldn’t last more than a year. 

Right about now, she’d wished she had had the courage to ask if Nancy had an old one, because her clothes were soaked through as she could feel the goosebumps all over her body. 

She glanced at the map, prominently displayed on the side of town hall, hoping it would give her some suggestion of where to go. 

Loch Nora. Harrington. 

Pushing wet hair off of her face, she started running again. Her feet splashed in the puddles that littered the sidewalk, especially once she took herself down the backroads to avoid being seen. She kept running until she reached the house she knew to be his. 

She’d only been there a couple times, never further in than the front hall. The first time, Steve was picking up some homework for Nancy to check before he dropped her and Dustin at Mike’s. She’d stayed in the car, staring at awe at the sheer size of it. As far as she knew, Steve had no siblings, so why his parents brought a house that must be at least four bedrooms, she’d never know. It was well cared for too, pretty flowers in the garden and neatly trimmed hedges surrounding it. 

The second time, she’d shown up on his doorstep with the party demanding Dustin’s whereabouts. From what she could remember, the house was nice inside too. Clean, much cleaner than her own. She imagined it was usually quiet too, although it wasn’t at that moment with Mike squawking in her ear. Steve’s parents never seemed to be around, or at least she’d never seen them. She wasn’t the best person to introduce to parents though, so maybe that was why. 

Steve had a porch with a roof and a bench. That was good. It meant she could get out of the rain and wait for him to arrive. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

Hopper had no idea why he ever involved himself with children. El glared at him as he left, silently blaming him for Max running off, while the Byers kid just looked fucking terrified, which was his resting expression at this point. 

Joyce jumped into the van beside him. 

“If you find her, I don’t think you should be alone.” 

“Why?” He grunted.

“You don’t have a great track record, do you?” She said sarcastically, pulling on her seatbelt as Hopper began to drive, knowing full well she wasn’t going to get out. 

“She’s a stubborn one.” 

“She’s scared.” Joyce corrected.

“She is stubborn though, just in general.” Hopper replied, determined not to be proven wrong again by Joyce, “Had to pick her up in this van a fair few times. Kid’s been in more fights than the average eighth grader.” 

“Maybe she learnt it from home.” Joyce commented, pointedly, and Hopper sighed. 

“I’m sorry, alright? I thought I’d leave them be, a fresh chance and all that.” 

“It’s not me you need to apologise to.” Joyce replied quietly, “It’s poor Max.”

Hopper went quiet, overcome with guilt. In his mind, he tried to justify it wasn’t his fault, but it was impossible. How could someone do that under his watch? To Max, of all kids? Max who was probably his second favorite brat after El. More importantly, how could someone do that to Max? She was small and, when she wasn’t being rude, quite nice. Even so, even if she was really annoying, you can’t do that to a kid. 

Except you can, you can because he gave that Californian bastard another fucking chance. 

He pushed down on the gas pedal and gripped the steering wheel in anger, ignoring Joyce’s concerned looks. 

“I’m never letting that kid down again.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Steve approached his porch, baseball bat in hand (because anyone from Hawkins should always keep that in their car), and he hated to admit that he was slightly scared. 

As he got closer, he saw the thing move, a dark shadow against the automatic light of the porch. The figure moved closer to the opening in the fence, barely visible, and Steve gripped the bat harder. 

It jumped out in front of him, and he raised the bat above his head, ready to swing.

“Dude! What the fuck?” Cried Max as she glared up at him, soaking wet red hair stuck to her face, “Are you trying to kill me?”

“What? No! Max!” He shouted in reply, although not loudly enough for anyone to hear him. “I thought you were a demogorgon.” 

“Very complimentary.” She said, scowling, “You could have murdered me!”

“Yeah, well why the fuck are you hiding in my porch?” Steve replied aggressively, unlocking the front door. He pulled her inside by the arm of her jacket, and although she didn’t stop him, the scowl on her face got even darker. 

“Sit down.” He ordered, shoving her over to the living room sofa as he picked up the phone. 

“What are you doing?” She asked, standing up again. 

“Calling Hopper.”

“Not a fucking chance.” Max said, snatching the phone out his hand and kicking him back for good measure. Who did this kid think she was? The fucking Karate Kid? He took the phone back out of her hands, holding it securely out of her reach. At least there was one benefit to looking after kids, there’s only so high they can jump. 

“Do you want to explain to me what’s going on before or after I call Hopper?” He asked, figuring that he should give her the choice of when to receive his lecture.

“I don’t want you to call Hopper.” She replied, sticking out her chin. 

“He’s looking for you.”

“I don’t give a fuck.” Max said, and Steve didn’t quite believe her, but decided not to challenge that yet.

“Hey, language.” 

“You swear all the time.” 

“Well I’m not a kid like you.” Steve replied, placing the phone back in the holder. “And since I’m not a kid, I can tell you to get your ass back on that couch and tell me what the hell is going on.” He expected her to argue with him, or bolt out the door and disappear off into the night again, so her silently flopping herself onto the sofa was a pleasant surprise. 

“Look, Hopper fucked up.” He began, staring straight into her blue eyes. 

“I thought I was talking?” She interrupted, an eyebrow raised impertinently. 

“Alright then kid, talk.” Replied Steve, leaning back on his chair and wishing he had a beer to drink. “Why’d you run?”

“Hop was telling me what to do. I don’t like it when people tell me what I can and can’t do.”

“That’s generally the deal when you’re thirteen.” 

“I’m not thirteen on purpose.” Snapped Max, “And anyway, it wasn’t even like when a teacher tells you what to do. When they do that at least they don’t pretend they're helping or that you should like it. If I get detention at school, the whole point is that it’s bad, but Hopper was acting as if I should be grateful, for what? For being stuck in fucking Hawkins with my asshole of a stepdad in prison, Billy arrested and my mom fuck knows where?” She drew in a deep breath, then continued with tears forming in her eyes, 

“And I shouted at him, and Will and El heard and they probably hate me for it and so will Joyce and so will Jonathon and you and everyone. And they’re going to be even more mad now and I don’t know what to do and I just want to go home!” With the last phrase, she fell into Steve’s arms, sobbing. 

“Hey Max, it’s alright. Don’t worry, yeah, no one’s mad at you. No one could ever be mad at you.”

“You were.” She sniffed, as blunt as ever. 

“I know. I’m sorry.” He said, uncomfortably holding her in his arms, “I didn’t mean it, I was just scared, that’s all.”

“Scared? Of the demogorgons?” Asked Max, and Steve couldn’t tell if she was being cheeky or not. 

“Scared for you, we didn’t know where you were.” 

“Will Joyce be scared?”

“I expect so.” Steve replied softly, “D’you want to call her?”

“But I don’t want Hopper to take me.” 

“He’s not gonna take you, I promise. You’re staying right here.” Steve reassured her, although he had no idea if it was true. Hopper was acting on behalf of the authorities, and they generally got their way. However, he was going to do whatever the fuck it took to protect her. 

Max’s hands were trembling as she typed the police van number into the phone, with Steve reading it aloud from the phone book. It rang for a few moments before Hopper’s irritated voice answered, 

“Chief Hopper, Hawkins Police.” He said through the phone. 

“Hello, sir.” Max stuttered, “It’s Max.” 

There was a muffled noise from the phone, then Joyce spoke. 

“Are you okay honey? Where are you?” She asked, and Steve noticed Max’s face relax. 

“I’m at Steve’s house. Sorry, I shouldn’t have run.” She hastily shoved in an apology, Steve imagined she wanted to get it out the way as quickly as possible. 

“It’s alright, as long as you’re safe.” Joyce said, and Steve heard Hopper grunt ‘Fucking Harrington’ through the phone, really hoping that Max didn’t.

It didn’t take long for Joyce and Hopper to be standing at his doorstep. In that time, he’d found out a sweater and skirt that Nancy had left there over a year ago now, figuring that people would find it weird if she wore his clothes. Max wasn’t exactly thrilled about this, but she was also soaked through and grumpily changed. 

“I look so  _ Hawkins! _ ’ She complained, sitting down at the kitchen table as Steve placed a bowl of soup in front of her. 

“Nothing wrong with Hawkins.” Steve said, feeling oddly protective of his hometown

“There’s everything wrong with Hawkins.” 

“Isn’t that a shame?” Steve replied sarcastically, not wanting to deal with argumentative Max any more than he had to, “Now eat, I don’t want you getting sick or something.” Max made some kind of unintelligible, teenager noise, then began to eat and Steve figured he’d won that round of ‘Max and Steve argue about everything under the sun’. 

Hopper, and Steve presumed it was Hopper, rang the doorbell five times in rapid succession as Steve darted for the door, 

“I’m coming, I’m coming! Jesus Christ.” He shouted as he ran down the hall, Max on his heels.

Opening the door, Joyce forced her way in and wrapped Max in a massive hug, while Hopper glared at Steve. 

“You fed her?” He grunted and Steve nodded. “Good.” 

“Don’t yell at her.” Steve commanded as Jocye and Max moved into the kitchen, “And don’t say a word about people taking her away.” 

“Since when did you give me orders Harrington?” Hopper asked, pushing past him then stopping and turning around, “And I’m not going to say anything wrong, understand? I know what I’m doing.”

“That’s a lie and you know it.” Said Steve dangerously, but Hopper just glared at him and went into the kitchen. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

“I’m not going with you.” Max said, purposefully glaring at Hopper. 

“Red, don’t run off again.” He sighed, placing his hand on her shoulder and looking at her seriously, “It’s only going to make things worse for yourself.”

“I said, I’m not going with you.” She insisted, feeling her face flush red. 

“I’m not taking you anywhere, understand?” Hopper said, standing back in the way he always did when his patience was running low. He was saying the right words, but his tone told Max that he was seconds away from snapping.

She darted her eyes from Hopper to Steve then to Joyce, who both nodded reassuringly. Max felt stupid, so stupid. She felt exactly like who she was. A kid who’s life just got fucked over and they don’t know how to deal with it at all. 

Running won’t make it better. Hopper was right on that one. But Steve and Joyce and the whole of Hawkins, Indiana couldn’t make it any better either. She wanted her mom or her dad or ever fucking Billy. She wanted someone who actually had a clue what had happened to her over the last thirteen years, and instead she was stuck with the people she met three months ago. 

They all watched her as she ate, making her feel painfully uncomfortable. Then once she finished, they all insisted that she went to bed. 

“Things will all feel a bit better if you’re not so tired, Maxy.” Joyce told her, rubbing her arm sympathetically. “Then tomorrow we can work on you seeing your mother again.” 

“I’m not tired.” She replied, staring down at the empty bowl in front of her.

“Come on kid, don’t be difficult.” Said Hopper, sitting down in the chair beside her. “There’s nothing we can do tonight.”

“According to who?” Max challenged, “You’re the chief of police. Do something.”

“That’s not how it works.” Hopper said, his voice rising slightly. Max figured it was supposed to scare her, or at least make her more compliant. He knew she’d lived with Neil, right?

“I don’t care, make it work.” She snapped, her voice louder than his. 

“No. I’m not about to be told what to do by a kid.” He told her, his voice edging closer to angry with each word. “I get that this is hard for you, but please, just go to bed.”

“Stop telling me what to do.” Shouted Max, standing up from the table, “People have been telling me what to do all night and it’s not fair.”

“They’re looking after you.” Hopper explained, sounding annoyingly calm and rational, which only made Max feel more stupid. 

“Tell everyone to stop trying to fucking look after me and for them to get out of my fucking business!” She screamed at him. 

“Bed, now, Maxine.” Ordered Steve and she glanced up at him.

“Steve, no.” She said plainly, making Steve glare at her.

“Now.” He repeated in a slow, controlled tone, “Upstairs, now.” 

“Steve, I already said n-”

“Max. I am seconds away from losing my shit with you. Go upstairs, now.” Steve said, still slow and calm as if he was talking to a toddler. 

Everyone looked at her expectantly, and she wished more than anything that she could just shout and hit at them. Instead, Max pushed her way past Hopper, who had stood up again, and ran down the hall then up the stairs to the spare room. 

Throwing herself on the bed, she felt incredibly embarrassed. She’s been treated like a child, an actual child, by Steve of all people, right in front of Hopper and Joyce, the two adults she was trying to impress. He’s always had a tendency to go full blown parent on her, but that was exclusively in the privacy of his car, and even then it would be a lecture about school or behaviour or losing the attitude, never telling her to go to bed like a kid past her fucking bedtime. 

She tried to stay awake, just to prove a point, however the more she tried the tired she got and drifted off into a sleep. 

It wasn’t calm or pleasant. First she had dreams, awful dreams, but she was close enough to awake for them to feel more like hallucinations. The location kept changing, sometimes her home, sometimes someone else's, sometimes school and sometimes California, which just made her feel terribly homesick. 

Eventually it landed on a situation, one that happened not long after the Mind Flayer incident, when Neil had caught her with Lucas. While Billy always warned against their relationship, he’s never done anything since she threatened him to leave them alone. But one day, Neil picked her up from school - completely out of the blue.

Max had tried to move away from the party as soon as she saw his car in the parking lot, but he’d already seen them. The ride home was silent, and most of it was spent with Neil’s hand wrapped tightly around her wrist so she couldn’t escape. 

When they reached the house, Neil led her inside by a tight grip on her shoulder, then shoved her to the floor as they entered. 

“What the fuck do you think you are doing with that boy?” Neil shouted, except he didn’t say boy. “Hanging around with him now?” 

“No sir, we’ve been partnered for a science project, that’s all.” Max lied quickly, scrambling off the floor. 

“Don’t lie to me Maxine.” Neil said, leaving in close to her, “I fucking hate liars.” He slapped Max across the face, his hand fast and sharp like a bullet. 

“I’m not lying.” She pleaded, stepping backwards out of his reach. 

“Tell the truth Maxine, tell the truth and no one gets hurt.” He snarled, moving towards her and grabbing her hoodie. That was a bold face lie. Lucas would get beaten within an inch of his life, so would Billy and she probably would too. Not that Neil considered that hurting, he called it ‘discipline’, a fundamental part of ‘Respect and Responsibility’.

“I am telling the truth.” She said, through gritted teeth. There was the strong urge to kick him and run, but she wasn’t completely stupid. 

“I said, don’t fucking lie to me!” Neil shouted, spit flying in her face, “Does Billy know about your little friend?” 

“Lucas isn’t my friend.” Max said, raising her voice louder than intended. Technically, not a lie.

“Oh, Lucas. Boy’s got a name.” Again, he didn’t say boy. 

Max felt her blood pump under her skin, almost like it was about to burst out of her veins and onto the cheap wood floor that covered the living room. Silently, Neil used one hand to remove his belt, the other still gripping tightly onto Max’s hoodie. 

She bit her lip as he forced her round, stopping herself from making any noise - because past experience told her that it only made things worse. With each stroke of the belt, she winced, feeling unwanted tears form in her eyes. 

After five hits, he jerked her back to face him. 

“Listen to me you little whore. You’re never going to speak to that fucking boy ever again, do you understand?” Once more, he didn’t say boy. Max didn’t answer and Neil’s face turned redder. “I said, do you understand?”

“Yes sir.” She muttered. 

“Good. Now, to your room. I don’t want to see or hear you until dinner time.” Neil commanded, standing up straight. 

“Yes sir.” Max replied, nodding her head slightly then rushing through the house to her room. On the way, she caught a glimpse of Billy staring out through his door, then heard Neil call him name. 

“William, get in here now!”

Max could hear the beating he got, eight times with the belt. He was always worse off, even if it wasn’t his fault. Probably because he was a boy, and Neil had a thing about masculinity. He was constantly on Billy about being a man, or more specifically not being a girl. There were set things in the house that Billy could do and Max couldn’t, or vice versa. 

Max wasn’t sure if it was because she was a kid, or because she was a girl, but the general expectation was for her to shut up. She didn’t get on well with that one, her mouth causing her more trouble than it was worth. Still, at times it had its advantages. Billy was often subject to unanswerable questions and pointless interrogations from Neil whenever he was angry, whereas Max could ride the ‘seen and not heard’ train until he calmed down. 

Maybe that’s why she argued with teachers and the party and anyone who would listen, because she never got to argue back at home. It was safer that way, to relieve her frustration to people whose worst punishment was detention instead of Neil, who could kill her if he tried. 

She felt bad about shouting to the adults downstairs. Joyce in particular. Joyce was so nice, so good to her. She cared far more that Max’s own mother did, and she’d yelled that she didn’t want her help. But she did. She wanted it more than she was prepared to admit.

Would she still be there? She wondered, realising she didn’t even know the time. One glance at the clock confirmed that Joyce would be long gone. 3:27. Hopper and Joyce would both be at home, with their own children, while Max was lying in Steve Harrington’s spare room wearing an old t-shirt from a band she’d never heard of.

Max felt incredibly alone.

She pulled herself out of the bed, noticing that she was way more tired than she’d like, it’s hard to be tough when you’re yawning. 

Her door was open slightly, weird, since she definitely shut it, and the hall light was still switched on. 

“Waste of money.” She muttered, glancing down the hall. 

All the doors were shut besides one, which she guessed had to be Steve’s. She tiptoed to the bathroom, splashing her face with water, then she crept to the bookshelf and pulled out a copy of A Study in Scarlet, settling down on a leather armchair.

Billy had given her a set of second hand Sherlock books for Christmas the year before. The section about Mormons was dull, and rather inaccurate, Max noted, but she liked it as a whole. Sherlock was smart, he solved his problems by being smart, and Max wished she could be like that. But she wasn’t, not in the slightest. 

She read for a while, with the clock on the shelf ticking quietly, and everything being very still. Steve must have parents, she assumed, but they were never mentioned and Max couldn’t see a single sign of them in the house. 

Eventually, just as she was growing tired enough that she needed to go back to bed, Steve emerged into the hallway. 

“Hello.” He said, making her jump slightly. 

“Hello.” Replied Max, timidly. 

“You should be in bed, young lady.” He told her, sitting on the other chair. “It’s late.” 

“I was asleep I just-” Max faltered, not wanting to admit that she was woken up by a bad dream and an overwhelming loneliness. 

“It’s okay kid. Nightmares?” He asked, his voice soft and reassuring. Max nodded and he smiled sympathetically, “I saw you tossing when I checked in on you.”

“You checked on me?” Max said, frowning slightly, “Why? I wasn’t going to run again.” 

“I know, just to make sure you were alright and shit.” Steve told her, making Max smile unconsciously. 

“Oh, okay.” She replied, shocked, “Can I call Joyce to say sorry?” 

“I think she’ll be asleep kiddo.” Steve said kindly, “And don’t worry, she wasn’t angry. They get it.” 

“No they don’t.” Max muttered, pulling her knees into her chest, “I feel really bad.” She confessed, her eyes darting to the floor. 

“It was a tough night, no one will hold anything against you.”

“You promise?” 

“I promise.” Steve said, standing up, “Now, back to bed, alright?” 

“Can I stay here?” Max asked, not moving. Steve looked at her with wide brown eyes, 

“You can sleep in with me if you’d like.” He offered, somehow understanding her fear of being alone. 

“I don’t want to go to bed.” Max mumbled, but stood up and followed him into the room. 

She barely took note of the walls and decor, climbing into bed beside Steve - with her under the comforter and him on top - and falling into a deep sleep.

  
  



End file.
